


But she knew the ways of commoner men

by lilith_morgana



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 18:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3143687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilith_morgana/pseuds/lilith_morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Of all of them, I'm most glad for Sera. She's been a friend."<br/>Can be read as a companion piece to "There are names for what binds us". Or not. Mentions of Blackwall/Inquisitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But she knew the ways of commoner men

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Blackwall's personal quest.
> 
> Previously posted to [my tumblr](http://senseandaccountability.tumblr.com/).

  
  
  
When he first returns to the stables after the trial, wrists still marked and his chest still raw, he finds that one of the walls up on the loft has been painted red. As he walks closer he can see the arrow, hanging there with a nearly unreadable note:  _welcome back, Beardy_.   
  
It escalates from there.   
  
He finds a copy of  _Hard in Hightown: Siege Harder_  on his workbench, neatly propped up with its cover visible beside the half-finished woodworks. A bowl of assorted stolen goods – sausages, cheese, apples, pathetic-looking cookies - jumbled together. A crude drawing of something that appears to be a continuation of a lewd tavern tale he might or might not have inquired about after one ale too many.   
  
“Siege Harder?” he asks Sera as she walks by outside after archery practice – or what passes as archery practice for her but makes the Commander groan into his gauntlets.   
  
The wind ruffles her hair as she laughs. “Oh, like you  _haven't_  read the first one, yeah?”  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
“Always knew you were up to something.” She brushes hay off her shoulders. It's the remains of one of her more successful pranks – hiding in the stables only to leap up and yell bloody murder as he had entered – and her voice is still warm, eyes wide and glittering.  
  
“Yeah?” He leans against the wall, that tiredness in his bones not leaving any time soon, it seems. “Sorry.”   
  
It seems to be his most frequent word these days, falls out of him with no effort at all. He doesn't mean it any less, though. If anything the intent behind it swells, bursts out of its confinements and feels almost too big.   
  
She shrugs it off, however. “For what?  _Trying_? Better than most ever do.”  
  
There's a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth and there and then it's the most precious sight he's ever seen. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
“Todd Reynard, huh?” A week after the trial and she's taken to stealing his supper now - mostly for fun, he assumes since he's fully capable of walking up to the keep and eat when he's hungry and the crowds of people wishing him dead have scattered.  _Where's the fun in that?_  “Well, that's a stupid name.”  
  
He scratches the back of his head. “Actually it's... never mind.”  
  
“What?” She tosses him a loaf of bread that he manages to catch with some effort. “Don't worry. You'll always be Beardy to me.”  
  
Small mercies, he supposes.   
  
  


* * *

   
  
  
“Lady Herald still not happy, right?”  
  
Sera stands between the horses, leaning slightly against one of the them as she seems to take a deep breath. The scent of tavern stands around her like a magical sphere. He longs for the same kind of alcohol-induced oblivion but it doesn't feel  _right_ , walking in there and ordering a drink like nothing has happened. He doesn't know – has no single fucking clue – how to be with a woman like the Inquisitor as Thom Rainier and there's not enough ale in Skyhold for him to endure the thought of that right now.   
  
“Right,” he offers, reluctantly.   
  
“She sounds angry.” His guest looks up, grinning. “And she talks  _about_  you. Lots. Good sign, though, innit?”  
  
“Yes.” Thom can't deny the surge through his body at that notion, the implications of it loosening up knots he was unaware of until just now.   
  
“Know what else is good?” She hauls two bottles of wine from her seemingly bottomless bag and hold them up. A gesture of triumph. “Found them in the kitchen.”  
  
“Found, eh?”   
  
“Hey, beggars can't be choosers, right?”   
  
He laughs, can feel his face ache with the unfamiliarity of it. “Give me one of those.”

 

* * *

  
  
  
“Nothing for me today? I've finished  _Siege Harder._ ” It's not a lie; he wishes it was.   
  
Nine days since he returned to Skyhold now and the thunder shakes the keep at its core tonight, rattling its bones around like a ghost story. Even the horses are restless, moving about in circles.   
  
“Drinks. On me.” Sera wiggles her eyebrows, nods towards the open door. “You'll pick out a serving girl for me tonight, yeah?

“Sera-”  
  
“Oh come  _on_ , Beardy.” She takes a few steps towards him and he can tell by the look on her face that she'll resort to pushing him out of the building if he doesn't leave on his own. “No freaking' moping tonight, right? Or I'll yank the beard. Understood?”  
  
“Understood.” He groans, but it's a relief all the same.   
  
Relief, walking the familiar path up the stairs and round the corner, sliding down at the table by the window upstairs where the view is good and the noise from the soldiers outside is less annoying.  
  
Relief, talking about unimportant nothings – boxes of dog-shit, pranks played, cities visited, foods tried and women shagged – until the often refilled tankard has washed out some of the stains in him, if only temporarily.   
  
Relief, hearing that unabashed, unafraid laughter crack through the air.  
  
“Sera,” he mutters over his fifth – seventh? tenth?- ale.   
  
“Beardy?”  
  
“Don't ever change. Alright?”  
  
She laughs again. “I can do that.”

  
  
  
  



End file.
